


How Dare You

by gutturalmess



Series: What If... [4]
Category: CodotVerse, DC - Fandom, DCU, Rogues Podcast
Genre: Brief Exhibitionism, CodotVerse DCAU - Freeform, Dance for Me (an Edward Nygma and Laura Cameron tag), Edward being a manipulative bastard, F/M, Manipulation, Mature tag because we cut away before matters get explicit, One Rogue Leads Another (Gotham Rogues tag), Stars in Her Eyes (a Laura Cameron tag), unwilling voyeurism
Language: Français
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:53:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23389063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gutturalmess/pseuds/gutturalmess
Summary: Anger she could understand, and she would even deign to hear offended defence of the girl - anything but this unwavering, frigid stare.
Relationships: Edward Nygma/Laura Cameron
Series: What If... [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1680877
Comments: 5
Kudos: 6





	1. En français - Voyeuse Réticente

**Author's Note:**

> An offshoot scene from [_A Willing Subject_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19110745), and a little lesson in never questioning the Riddler.
> 
> This was done to practise my French and flesh Ophelia out a bit - but have no fear, the second chapter is the English translation.

It was a rare lunch hour that Ophelia had to herself - the thought made her suppress a smug grin. Usually, Mayor Cobblepot found time for her, instead. However, there was no putting off the head of the Gotham Dockworker’s union, so with a sigh, she shouldered her purse and took her lunch to the Museum of Art.

As she contentedly strolled through the newly acquired Greek exhibit, she overheard a name she recognised, turning her head to listen to the two women locked in hushed discussion. 

“That was Edward Nygma.” 

“Yeah, duh, I was there. Holy shit.” 

“Did she mention him to you?” 

“Well - not really.” 

“That sounds more like a yes than a no.” 

“Laura said… said she met someone, yeah. While she was working.” 

“But she didn’t mention she was fucking the goddamn Riddler?” 

“Nope, she left that detail out.” 

“What else did she tell you?” 

One of them giggled; Ophelia chanced another step closer to hear better. It wasn’t widely known that she could understand English perfectly well, but she preferred French as it weeded out the riff raff. 

“She mentioned that this certain someone… destroyed her.” 

“What?” 

“Destroyed her. Said she’d never known sex like it.” 

“How d’you mean?” 

“In a closet, right in the middle of the day,” one of them exhaled. 

“Laura? No way.” 

“I didn’t believe it either - neither could she. She was terrified.” 

“Did they get caught?” 

“No, but she was convinced they would be.” 

“But did it anyway?” 

“Hoped it'd never end. Wouldn’t you?” 

“With the right guy? God yeah. Does that qualify as a romance novel, or a porno?” 

“Best of both worlds.” 

“Crucial question. How many times?” 

“She said she came twice. And not by accident.” 

“Goddamn. That deserves a brag - but she never told me.” 

“I practically had to drag it out of her.” 

“Huh. So he’s a man who lives up to the hype.” 

“Come on, Edward Nygma’s not known for fucking.” 

_Je suis d’accord,_ Ophelia thought, intrigued. 

“Arrogant, though.” 

“No question. Seems he’s got the goods in other areas.”

“Gorgeous hands, she said.” 

“Woof. Guess he can keep himself secret.” 

“Guess so.” 

“You think he spreads himself around?” 

“Wouldn’t be much of a secret if he did.” 

“I’ve got no chance, then.” 

“Neither of us do. See how he looked at Laura?”

“Couldn’t miss it - but I wish I had.” 

“They’ve been gone a while.” 

“You think they’re… y’know… ” 

“Probably.” 

“Such a lucky bitch.” 

“Right?” 

They both broke into giggles then; Ophelia had heard enough. 

_Edward est ici, en ce moment?_ She wondered. _Edward et… Laura? Elles sont ses amies - alors Laura doit être ici, aussi. Mais où?_

Ophelia looked around for an alcove, an archway, anywhere that someone could hide. A darkened corridor off the museum proper caught her eye; squinting, she tried to make out shapes. Gradually, she saw Edward - he had a girl pinned against the wall by the wrists. The usual amused, sardonic tilt she was used to seeing in his face was now an expression she didn’t recognise: it was sharp and predatory. 

Ophelia had always thought Edward handsome, but she had been disappointed to find that he had no interest beyond bandying wicked words. Not that she wanted to sleep with him - that privilege was reserved for someone else - but she was so used to attracting male attention like flies to honey that the implicit rejection left her flummoxed. When she checked around, she found he had no interest in anyone, and this soothed her ego. Now from the sound of it, that sexless though charming man could be, allegedly, a beast. 

Straining to hear, their voices filtered into her ears. 

“I must compliment you. This dress of yours is most appealing; I wholeheartedly approve of both style and hue.” 

“Thank you,” the girl said, her face lighting up; Ophelia rolled her eyes. 

“Do you normally wear dresses?” 

“No. No, I don’t. Pants, generally.” 

“Oh. Then… this is for me?” Edward grinned; the girl blushed. 

“Yes. I bought it… after. The first time.” 

“Such optimism.”

“More like blind hope,” the girl turned her head away. “Silly, I know.” 

Edward kissed the side of the girl’s neck; the tableau looked ludicrously romantic. Ophelia was supposed to be kissed like that, not suffer the indignity of seeing a lesser model curl up into it. 

“Not at all - you took a gamble, which rather paid off, did it not?” 

“It did,” she turned back to face him. 

“How wonderful,” he said. “Good girl.” 

"I also have a surprise for you," the girl said. 

"I noticed," he extended his thumbs to rub her hips. "Nothing to get in the way." 

Edward shoved his leg between hers and jerked it upwards; the girl jumped when his thigh held her own legs open. 

_Ici?_ Ophelia blinked, scandalised at the audacity of it. _Petit cachottier, va!_

Edward shifted his leg back and forth; the girl gasped. 

“Frightened?” 

“I’ve never done that in front of someone else.” 

“I love to watch you fall to pieces,” he said. “You are incredible when you come.” 

That tipped the balance; she could watch no more. Women like her experience such things firsthand, not peek at them from a distance like some… some pervert. Annoyed, confused, offended - Ophelia turned away. Putting as much distance between herself and them as possible, she stalked off back to the office, lunch uneaten and face burning.

That afternoon, Ophelia awaited Edward’s return; he always took the stairs so she sat ramrod straight and didn’t move. Without the ding of the elevator to serve as a warning sign, he could appear at any time and take her by surprise. Sure enough, within moments Edward came through the exit door that led to the stairs, barely winded from the climb. There was a bounce in his step, and she cursed herself for noticing it. As he passed by, he gave her a wink. 

“Bon après-midi, ma colombe,” he called over his shoulder, quick-stepping into his office. 

“B-bon après-midi, Edward,” she stuttered back, frozen. 

There was a pause as she stared into space. _Sa porte est ouverte,_ she thought, unable to bear it a moment longer. Ophelia got to her feet, took a deep breath and knocked on his door. Edward, typing at his computer with a focused frown, looked up without cease. 

“Hm?” 

Ophelia inhaled again and took the direct approach. 

“Je… je t’ai vu.” 

Edward raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. “Tu m’as vu…?” 

“Avec… avec elle.” 

There was a pause; his fingers stopped moving. The change in expression showed plain that Edward understood as he relaxed back into his chair. 

“Le roi était occupé aujourd’hui?” 

All Ophelia could do was nod; he spread his hands, palms up, attracting her gaze. _Belles mains,_ she thought. _Quel péché existe à cause de ses belles mains?_

“Tu as de la chance! Déjeuner et un spectacle.” Edward laughed; Ophelia blinked, offended. 

“J-je ne suis pas comme ça.” 

“Et pourtant… “ Edward rolled his eyes with a shrug. “Alors, quel est le problème?” 

“Pourquoi elle?” Ophelia demanded, the one question she had to have the answer to; Edward leaned forward to rest his elbows on the desk and clasp his hands. 

“Laura?” He said, eyebrows lifting. 

“Oui,” she nodded; he gave her a measured stare. 

“Pourquoi tu demandes?” 

“Elle…” she gestured, “elle n’est pas…” 

“ _Laura,_ ” he repeated, a smile pulling up the corners of his mouth. “Dis son nom.” 

“Laura,” Ophelia huffed out an annoyed sigh, rolling her eyes. “Elle est… spéciale?” 

“Question superflue,” Edward shook his head, frowning. “Tu sais ma réponse doit être oui.” 

“Regarde-moi,” she scoffed. 

“Je te regarde,” he said, impassive. 

“Mais comment? _Pourquoi?_ ” Ophelia demanded. 

“Fais un pas en arrière,” he warned, lifting a finger, “ce n’est pas ton affaire.” 

“Tu flirtes avec moi,” she protested. “Chaque jour - chaque _heure._ ” 

“C’est amusant à tourmenter,” he said, unsmiling. 

“Qui, moi?” 

“Harvey, Oswald, toi… ” he shrugged. “Je n’ai pas envie de les baiser - et certainement, je ne veux pas te baiser.” 

Ophelia flushed a furious red; she opened her mouth to reply, but he beat her to it. 

“Et j’ai connu que tu savais ça,” he sighed. “Je vais revoir à la baisse mon estime de ton intelligence.” 

“C-comment oses-tu?” Ophelia spluttered; Edward smiled. 

“Je pourrais te demander la même question.”

There was a pause; despite his reasonable expectation that she would storm off, Ophelia stayed put, leaning against the door frame with her arms crossed. Edward shook his head and rested his chin on one hand. 

“Pourquoi tu t'intéresses à ma vie sexuelle, tout à coup?” 

“Parce que, je connaissais…” she trailed off, looking away. 

“Quoi?” Edward said, irritated. “Où veux-tu en venir?” 

“Ton visage, ton langage corporel… ” Ophelia said; Edward cocked an eyebrow as prompt. “Tu étais… sauvage.”

“Sauvage,” he said, deadpan. 

“Oui,” she nodded. 

“Un homme différent.” 

“Alors quoi?” He said, waving a bored hand. “La vue n'était pas pour toi de voir.” 

“Pourtant,” Ophelia bit her lip. “Je connaissais que tu ne désires personne?” 

“C’est toujours la vérité.” 

“Mais tu désires… Laura?” 

“Grands dieux,” he sighed. 

“Après ce que j’ai vu…” Ophelia shook her head. “Je ne te crois pas.” 

“C’est à toi de le croire ou non,” Edward laughed. “Laisse-moi deviner - cette inquisition est parce que je ne te désire pas.” 

Ophelia crossed her arms and huffed; he shook his head, grinning. 

“Pas le premier fois que je l’ai vu; mes condoléances.” 

“Pardon?” 

“Ta fierté blessée. Tu te sens mal, c’est normal.” 

“Je suis meilleur qu’elle,” she snapped. Infuriatingly, he simply shrugged; she shook her head. “Et je ne comprends pas.” 

“J’ai un bâton, mais je n’ai pas besoin d’un bâton blanc,” Edward sighed. “Tu ne me désires pas.” 

“Tu as raison,” she agreed; then she blushed. “... Je désire Oswald.” 

“Et lui?” 

“C’est réciproque.” 

“Folle est la brebis qui au loup se confesse,” he said, raising an eyebrow. 

“Je n’ai pas honte,” she said with a haughty toss of her head. 

“Pas encore,” he smiled. “Donc, as-tu les mots pour le problème, maintenant?” 

“Je suis la personne qui dit ‘non’,” she said. 

“Huh,” Edward chuckled nonchalantly, unnerving her. “On va voir… ”

Watching her, Edward smiled and rubbed his hands together. 

“Tu es secrétaire pour Oswald, oui?” 

“Techniquement, oui,” she said, wary; his brief smile echoed the flash of a dorsal fin. “Mais je suis secrétaire pour la mairie.” 

“Beaucoup de travail,” he said, all concern. “Tu as l’air fatiguée.” 

“Non, pas du tout,” she shook her head, he tutted. “Trop de travail pour une personne, en fait,” he soothed. “Je trouverai une secrétaire pour mes affaires, en ton nom.” 

Pausing, he pursed his lips; Ophelia drew in a breath. 

“As-tu quelqu’un en tête…?” 

“Oui,” he said. “Laura.” 

“Elle est secrétaire?” Ophelia asked, discomfited. 

“Infirmière,” Edward stared into her eyes, relishing her discomfort. “Mais je fais confiance à elle.” Ophelia glared at him in silence; a sly grin split his face. “Elle pourrait s’asseoir ici, avec moi,” he said, gesturing to an empty space beside him. “Ou peut-être sur mes genoux.” 

“Assez,” Ophelia murmured. 

“Ou, nous pourrions trouver une position confortable sur…” he pointed, “mon bureau, contre le mur, sur le plancher…” 

“Tu n’oserais pas,” Ophelia hissed; Edward’s eyes flashed. 

“Ce que j’ai fait aujourd’hui - ce n'était rien,” his voice grew harsh; she didn’t recognise it. 

“Essaie-moi, enfant bête.” 

Stricken, Ophelia reared back. 

“Laura est si souple,” he went on, relentless. “Elle fera tout pour moi. Dis-moi, qu’est-ce que tu veux voir?” 

“Qu’est… “

“Je ne peux pas avoir de secrets sans ta permission? Donc,” he snarled, “tu auras une place au premier rang. Pas de secrets ici.” 

Surely this was bragging, pride, bluster, perhaps even protectiveness toward the girl he had chosen - but Ophelia could see nothing but blazing contempt in Edward’s face, and felt scalded by it. This was no bluff; he’d follow through. 

_Edward - ou Riddler? Je ne reconnais pas cet homme._

Frightened and out of her depth, she gave in. 

“S’il vous plaît, arrêtez,” she said, sacrificing a chunk of pride; her voice waved a white flag. “Je suis… désolée. J’ai outrepassé mes pouvoirs.” 

“Oui,” Edward held her gaze with a hard smile. “Que as-tu appris?"

“Il ne faut pas vous questionner,” she said; he nodded. 

“Bon,” he said. “Pour ta récompense, je te laisse le choix: veux-tu Laura ici?” 

Ophelia shook her head; he gave her a warning look. 

“Dis la phrase complète.” 

“Non, je ne veux pas Laura ici.” 

“Et voilà,” he said, flourishing his hands with a mocking laugh. “Tu es la personne qui dit ‘non’.” 

“Pourquoi êtes-vous si cruel… ” she whispered. 

“J’ai dit que ce n’est pas ton affaire,” he said. “Retiens la leçon.” 

There was a hostile pause as she watched the fire in his face simmer back down into its familiar condescension. 

“Et maintenant, qu’est-ce qui se passe?” 

“Le favori du roi va retourner à son bureau et laisse-moi tranquille.” 

Ophelia flushed. “S’il vous plaît…” 

“Quoi maintenant?” 

“Une question, et je n’en parlerai plus.” 

“Pour ton bien, j'espère que oui.” 

“Jamais plus,” she said; he raised an index finger. 

“Une question, et j’ai le droit de refus.” 

“Bien sûr,” she nodded. 

“Allons-y,” Edward said, rolling his eyes as he gestured with both hands. 

“Pourquoi elle?” Ophelia repeated, still unable to let it go. 

Edward shook his head in disbelief. 

“ _Toujours_ ça?” 

“Oui,” she said; Edward shrugged. 

“Parce qu’elle est mon chaton.” 

Ophelia raised her eyebrows, surprised. 

“C’est votre première réponse?” 

“Ma seule réponse.” 

“Votre chaton?” she shook her head. 

“Feh,” she said, attempting to rouse some kind of emotion from him besides his scorn. Anger she could understand, and she would even deign to hear offended defence of the girl - anything but this unwavering, frigid stare. 

“Votre pute.” 

“Tu as tort, de nouveau,” Edward said, unperturbed. “Ferme la porte quand tu pars." 

With that, he turned back to his computer and shut her out completely; her cheeks stung like she’d been slapped. With great restraint, Ophelia managed not to slam the door; after all, doing so would only attract Oswald’s attention. As she sat back at her desk, her hands shook as she struggled to control herself; she could never tell Oswald of this. What could she tell him, that she was offended that Edward had female company? That’d go over well; besides his affection for her, she suspected Oswald to be as proprietorial of Edward as he would be of one of his prized rare birds. 

Ophelia sighed and rested her forehead on the desk as she exhaled out her disgrace. 

_Mais… je ne comprends toujours pas. Comment est-elle différente?_


	2. In English - Reluctant Voyeur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The same as previous - but in English.

It was a rare lunch hour that Ophelia had to herself - the thought made her suppress a smug grin. Usually, Mayor Cobblepot found time for her, instead. However, there was no putting off the head of the Gotham Dockworker’s union, so with a sigh, she shouldered her purse and took her lunch to the Museum of Art.

As she contentedly strolled through the newly acquired Greek exhibit, she overheard a name she recognised, turning her head to listen to the two women locked in hushed discussion. 

"That was Edward Nygma.” 

“Yeah, duh, I was there. Holy shit.” 

“Did she mention him to you?” 

“Well - not really.” 

“That sounds more like a yes than a no.” 

“Laura said… said she met someone, yeah. While she was working.” 

“But she didn’t mention she was fucking the goddamn Riddler?” 

“Nope, she left that detail out.” 

“What else did she tell you?” 

One of them giggled; Ophelia chanced another step closer to hear better. It wasn’t widely known that she could understand English perfectly well, but she preferred French as it weeded out the riff raff. 

“She mentioned that this certain someone… destroyed her.”

“What?” 

“Destroyed her. Said she’d never known sex like it.” 

“How d’you mean?” 

“In a closet, right in the middle of the day,” one of them exhaled. 

“Laura? No way.” 

“I didn’t believe it either - neither could she. She was terrified.” 

“Did they get caught?” 

“No, but she was convinced they would be.” 

“But did it anyway?” 

“Hoped it'd never end. Wouldn’t you?” 

“With the right guy? God yeah. Does that qualify as a romance novel, or a porno?” 

“Best of both worlds.” 

“Crucial question. How many times?” 

“She said she came twice. And not by accident.” 

“Goddamn. That deserves a brag - but she never told me.” 

“I practically had to drag it out of her.” 

“Huh. So he’s a man who lives up to the hype.” 

“Come on, Edward Nygma’s not known for fucking.”

_I agree,_ Ophelia thought, intrigued. 

"Arrogant, though.” 

“No question. Seems he’s got the goods in other areas.” 

“Gorgeous hands, she said.”

“Woof. Guess he can keep himself secret.” 

“Guess so.” 

“You think he spreads himself around?” 

“Wouldn’t be much of a secret if he did.” 

“I’ve got no chance, then.” 

“Neither of us do. See how he looked at Laura?” 

“Couldn’t miss it - but I wish I had.” 

“They’ve been gone a while.” 

“You think they’re… y’know… ” 

“Probably.” 

“Such a lucky bitch.” 

“Right?” 

They both broke into giggles then; Ophelia had heard enough. 

_Edward is here, right now?_ She wondered. _Edward and… Laura? Those are her friends - so Laura must be here, too. But where?_

Ophelia looked around for an alcove, an archway, anywhere that someone could hide. A darkened corridor off the museum proper caught her eye; squinting, she tried to make out shapes. Gradually, she saw Edward - he had a girl pinned against the wall by the wrists. The usual amused, sardonic tilt she was used to seeing in his face was now an expression she didn’t recognise: it was sharp and predatory. 

Ophelia had always thought Edward handsome, but she had been disappointed to find that he had no interest beyond bandying wicked words. Not that she wanted to sleep with him - that privilege was reserved for someone else - but she was so used to attracting male attention like flies to honey that the implicit rejection left her flummoxed. When she checked around, she found he had no interest in anyone, and this soothed her ego. Now from the sound of it, that sexless though charming man could be, allegedly, a beast. 

Straining to hear, their voices filtered into her ears. 

“I must compliment you. This dress of yours is most appealing; I wholeheartedly approve of both style and hue.” 

“Thank you,” the girl said, her face lighting up; Ophelia rolled her eyes. 

“Do you normally wear dresses?” 

“No. No, I don’t. Pants, generally.” 

“Oh. Then… this is for me?” Edward grinned; the girl blushed. 

“Yes. I bought it… after. The first time.” 

“Such optimism.” 

“More like blind hope,” the girl turned her head away. “Silly, I know.” 

Edward kissed the side of the girl’s neck; the tableau looked ludicrously romantic. Ophelia was supposed to be kissed like that, not suffer the indignity of seeing a lesser model curl up into it. 

“Not at all - you took a gamble, which rather paid off, did it not?” 

“It did,” she turned back to face him. 

“How wonderful,” he said. “Good girl.” 

"I also have a surprise for you," the girl said. 

"I noticed," he extended his thumbs to rub her hips. "Nothing to get in the way." 

Edward shoved his leg between hers and jerked it upwards; the girl jumped when his thigh held her own legs open. 

_Here?_ Ophelia blinked, scandalised at the audacity of it. _You dark horse!_

Edward shifted his leg back and forth; the girl gasped. 

“Frightened?” 

“I’ve never done that in front of someone else.” 

“I love to watch you fall to pieces,” he said. “You are incredible when you come.” 

That tipped the balance; she could watch no more. Women like her experience such things firsthand, not peek at them from a distance like some… some pervert. Annoyed, confused,  
offended - Ophelia turned away. Putting as much distance between herself and them as possible, she stalked off back to the office, lunch uneaten and face burning.

That afternoon, Ophelia awaited Edward’s return; he always took the stairs so she sat ramrod straight and didn’t move. Without the ding of the elevator to serve as a warning sign, he could appear at any time and take her by surprise. Sure enough, within moments Edward came through the exit door that led to the stairs, barely winded from the climb. There was a bounce in his step, and she cursed herself for noticing it. As he passed by, he gave her a wink. 

“Good afternoon, my dove,” he called over his shoulder, quick-stepping into his office. 

“G-good afternoon, Edward,” she stuttered back, frozen. 

There was a pause as she stared into space. _His door is open,_ she thought, unable to bear it a moment longer. Ophelia got to her feet, took a deep breath and knocked on his door. Edward, typing at his computer with a focused frown, looked up without cease. 

“Hm?” 

Ophelia inhaled again and took the direct approach. 

“I… I saw you.” 

Edward raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. 

“You saw me…?” 

“With… with her.” 

There was a pause; his fingers stopped moving. The change in expression showed plain that Edward understood as he relaxed back into his chair. 

“The king was busy today?” 

All Ophelia could do was nod; he spread his hands, palms up, attracting her gaze. _Beautiful hands,_ she thought. _What sin exists because of his beautiful hands?_

“How fortunate! Lunch and a show.” Edward laughed; Ophelia blinked, offended. 

“I - I’m not like that.” 

“And yet… “ Edward rolled his eyes with a shrug. “So, what’s the problem?” 

“Why her?” Ophelia demanded, the one question she had to have the answer to; Edward leaned forward to rest his elbows on the desk and clasp his hands. 

“Laura?” He said, eyebrows lifting. 

“Yes,” she nodded; he gave her a measured stare. 

“Why do you ask?” 

“She…” she gestured, “she’s not…” 

“ _Laura,_ ” he repeated, a smile pulling up the corners of his mouth. “Say her name.” 

“Laura,” Ophelia huffed out an annoyed sigh, rolling her eyes. “She’s… special?” 

“Superfluous question,” Edward shook his head, frowning. “You know my answer has to be yes.” 

“Look at me,” she scoffed. 

“I’m looking at you,” he said, impassive. 

“But how? _Why?_ ” Ophelia demanded. 

“Take a step back,” he warned, lifting a finger, “this isn’t your business.” 

“You flirt with me,” she protested. “Every day - every _hour._ ” 

“It’s fun to torment,” he said, unsmiling. 

“Who, me?” 

“Harvey, Oswald, you… ” he shrugged. “I don’t want to fuck them - and certainly, I don’t want to fuck you.” 

Ophelia flushed a furious red; she opened her mouth to reply, but he beat her to it. 

“And I thought you knew that,” he sighed. “I’m going to have to revise my estimation of your intelligence.” 

“H-how dare you?” Ophelia spluttered; Edward smiled. 

“I could ask you the same question.”

There was a pause; despite his reasonable expectation that she would storm off, Ophelia stayed put, leaning against the door frame with her arms crossed. Edward shook his head and rested his chin on one hand. 

“Why are you interested in my sex life, all of a sudden?” 

“Because, I thought…” she trailed off, looking away. 

“What?” Edward said, irritated. “What is your point?”

“Your face, your body language… ” Ophelia said; Edward cocked an eyebrow as a prompt. “You were… wild.” 

“Wild,” he said, deadpan.

“Yes,” she nodded. “A different man.” 

“So what?” He said, waving a bored hand. “The sight was not meant for you to see.” 

“However,” Ophelia bit her lip. “I believed that you didn’t desire anyone?” 

“It’s still the truth.” 

“But you want… Laura?” 

“Good grief,” he sighed. 

“After what I saw…” Ophelia shook her head. “I don’t believe you.” 

“It’s up to you to believe it or not,” Edward laughed. “Let me guess - this inquisition is because I don’t want you.”

Ophelia crossed her arms and huffed; he shook his head, grinning. 

“Not the first time I’ve seen it; my condolences.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Your wounded pride. You feel badly about it, it’s normal.” 

“I’m better than her,” she snapped. Infuriatingly, he simply shrugged; she shook her head. “And I don’t understand.” 

“I have a cane, but I don’t need a white cane,” Edward sighed. “You don’t want me.” 

“You’re right,” she agreed; then she blushed. “... I desire Oswald.” 

“And him?” 

“It’s reciprocated.” 

“Foolish is the lamb who confesses to the wolf,” he said, raising an eyebrow. 

“I’m not ashamed,” she said with a haughty toss of her head. 

“Not yet,” he smiled. “So, do you have the words for the problem, now?” 

“I am the person who says ‘no’,” she said. 

“Huh,” Edward chuckled nonchalantly, unnerving her. “Let’s see… ”

Watching her, Edward smiled and rubbed his hands together. 

“You’re the secretary for Oswald, yes?” 

“Technically, yes,” she said, wary; his brief smile echoed the flash of a dorsal fin. “But I’m secretary for city hall.” 

“A lot of work,” he said, all concern. “You look tired.” 

“No, not at all,” she shook her head, he tutted. 

“Too much work for one person, in fact,” he soothed. “I’ll find a secretary for my affairs, on your behalf.” 

Pausing, he pursed his lips; Ophelia drew in a breath. 

“Do you have someone in mind…?” 

“Yes,” he said. “Laura.” 

“Is she a secretary?” Ophelia asked, discomfited. 

“Nurse,” Edward stared into her eyes, relishing her discomfort. “But I trust her.” Ophelia glared at him in silence; a sly grin split his face. “She could sit here, with me,” he said, gesturing to an empty space beside him. “Or perhaps on my lap.” 

“Enough,” Ophelia murmured. 

“Or we could find a comfortable position on…” he pointed, “my desk, against the wall, on the floor…” 

“You wouldn’t dare,” Ophelia hissed; Edward’s eyes flashed.

“What I did today - it was nothing,” his voice grew harsh; she didn’t recognise it. “Try me, stupid child.” 

Stricken, Ophelia reared back. 

“Laura is so flexible,” he went on, relentless. “She would do anything for me. Tell me, what do you want to see?” 

“What… “ 

“I can’t have secrets without your permission? So,” he snarled, “you’ll have a seat in the front row. No secrets here.” 

Surely this was bragging, pride, bluster, perhaps even protectiveness toward the girl he had chosen - but Ophelia could see nothing but blazing contempt in Edward’s face, and felt scalded by it. This was no bluff; he’d follow through. 

_Edward - or Riddler? I don’t recognise this man._

Frightened and out of her depth, she gave in. 

“Please, stop,” she said, sacrificing a chunk of pride; her voice waved a white flag. “I’m… sorry. I overstepped my bounds.” 

“Yes,” Edward held her gaze with a hard smile. “What have you learned?" 

“Not to question you,” she said; he nodded. 

“Good,” he said. “For your reward, I allow you the choice: do you want Laura here?” 

Ophelia shook her head; he gave her a warning look. 

“Say the complete sentence.” 

“No, I don’t want Laura here.” 

“And there you are,” he said, flourishing his hands with a mocking laugh. “You are the person who says ‘no’.” 

“Why are you so cruel… ” she whispered. 

“I said that it’s not your business,” he said. “Remember the lesson.” 

There was a hostile pause as she watched the fire in his face simmer back down into its familiar condescension. 

“And now, what happens?” 

“The favourite of the king will return to her desk and leave me alone.” 

Ophelia flushed. “Please…” 

“What now?” 

“One question, and I’ll ask no more.” 

“For your sake, I hope so.” 

“Never again,” she said; he raised an index finger. 

“One question, and I have the right to refuse.” 

“Of course,” she nodded. 

“Go on then,” Edward said, rolling his eyes as he gestured with both hands. 

“Why her?” Ophelia repeated, still unable to let it go. 

Edward shook his head in disbelief. 

“ _Still_ that?” 

“Yes,” she said; Edward shrugged. 

“Because she’s my kitten.” 

Ophelia raised her eyebrows, surprised. 

“Is that your first answer?” 

“My only answer.” 

“Your kitten?” she shook her head. “Feh,” she said, attempting to rouse some kind of emotion from him besides his scorn. Anger she could understand, and she would even deign to hear offended defence of the girl - anything but this unwavering, frigid stare. 

“Your whore.” 

“You’re wrong, as usual,” Edward said, unperturbed. “Close the door when you leave." 

With that, he turned back to his computer and shut her out completely; her cheeks stung like she’d been slapped. With great restraint, Ophelia managed not to slam the door; after all, doing so would only attract Oswald’s attention. As she sat back at her desk, her hands shook as she struggled to control herself; she could never tell Oswald of this. What could she tell him, that she was offended that Edward had female company? That’d go over well; besides his affection for her, she suspected Oswald to be as proprietorial of Edward as he would be of one of his prized rare birds. 

Ophelia sighed and rested her forehead on the desk as she exhaled out her disgrace. 

_But… I still don’t understand. How is she different?_


End file.
